


Free and Gentle Flower

by Wawa_Girl



Series: Never Dance Alone [4]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Bittersweet Themes, Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Memories, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Romance, Space Poison Ivy, Starmora Week, Starmora Week 2018, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wawa_Girl/pseuds/Wawa_Girl
Summary: It needed to benurtured.Day 4: Traditions / Pop Culture





	Free and Gentle Flower

"How about this odd, spiky bugger?" Peter held up a brown plant with sharp needles sticking off the top, and yellow powder falling from the stem. "It looks--"

"Poisonous," Gamora deadpanned, and the man dropped the weed like a hot blade and leapt away from the dust particles.

"...I knew that," he mumbled and shook his gloves vigorously. "I knew."

"Like ya knew about that poisonous shrub ya jumped into like a moron, and then were scratchin' for days?" Rocket piped in, sitting on the hood of their ship and not looking up from his tools. "We went through so much ice 'n lotion, and had to guard you like a baby to keep you from flaying yourself open. Disgusting."

Their leader huffed and rolled his eyes at the raccoon's remarks about his incredible self-control, wandering to the flowers Gamora was quietly inspecting. He kneeled down in the small patch and saw her smiling at the premature sky blues peeking up from the soil. Pretty and smelled nice. "Wanna go with these?" he asked casually. Not impatient, but not feeling especially picky this time around.

Gamora, however, looked to be in deep thought. "Maybe."

It was a tradition that began when the newly dubbed _Guardians of the Galaxy_ departed from their first mini adventure, second adventure overall. After they saved Xandar and formed the team, deciding on "a bit of both" regarding the options for future travels, they wound up nearly crashing into an ocean on a dove-shaped planet, assisting the locals in mechanical repairs, and shopping for anything to help make sharing _The Milano_ with four other inhabitants more comfortable.

Before the misfits journeyed to find new activities and start advertising heroic services, Peter had secretly picked a flower near the water by the ship. The closest image to a rose he had seen outside of Earth.

He presented it to Gamora during the ride, as a peace offering and _friendship token_ , trying not to sound like a smitten, blabbering mess. _('We're gonna be living and working together, and that knife-to-the-throat shit is behind us. We're friends now, right? Yeah, so wouldja like...I mean, not sure what you give as a 'thanks for shouting at me to grab your hand to prevent being ripped apart by a powerful, magic stone and saving us' gift, but...thanks, and ya might not be into flowers. It's not a sword. It's simple. Simple like your smile. Wait! I meant in a good way! You're--Do you like it? If not, I'll shoot it out the window now. Well, not NOW, we'd die. Eyes could freeze. And bleed. Bloody eyes are gross.') _Gamora had thanked him and said she would stick it inside Groot's pot, though the next day Peter noticed it placed on her own bunk-side table.__

The group's next real "mission" was not the most glamorous, or worthy of galaxy-wide headlines, but dangerous and successful nonetheless - rescuing a child's small pet from a mine factory. Gamora had claimed she plucked an interesting plant from the public garden near the port as a keepsake to honor the early experience. To celebrate a good, noble job.

Soon enough, every global exploration, from serious job to boring pit stop, ended with a Guardian grabbing a small piece of nature as a souvenir for the collection. Barring planets they visited frequently such as Xandar, perilous weather, enemy pursuits, or medical emergencies were the only reasons at least a petal wasn't taken from the land.

"Ooh, may I help choose this time?" Mantis asked, and Peter turned around to see her exiting _The Benatar_ and shielding her eyes from the sun.

 _'Why flowers?'_ lacked a solitary answer. They were easy, common, and free. Symbols of friendship and other ties. Gamora strongly appreciated their simplicity. Baby Groot, and his forefather, created and bathed in them. Peter knew it was something his mother would probably do. Grenades and jetpacks made awesome souvenirs, but Rocket and Drax usually took care of those plenty. Native and wild mementos were unique, proof of the journey.

When Groot became strong and free from his pot he would excitedly yank a flower from the ground, and Mantis loved making selections, but Peter and Gamora treated the ritual the most sacred and earnest, often the only heroes remembering to take one before flying away.

And once Peter and Gamora entered a romantic partnership following the disaster on Ego, the tradition took on a new, stronger, poignant meaning. The two gained a reputation with Rocket as _'puke-inducingly sentimental'_ and this habit of embarking on a walk to choose a flower did nothing to lessen the rodent's jabs, but they always just reassured that they would bring him back something pretty.

"Sure," Peter answered Mantis, upbeat. "But stay away from yellow poison pollen!" he warned, and faced Gamora again. She was studying the same blue candidates on the ground with tenderness. "Are there any of them that are bigger?" he asked, knowing she hated disrupting the landscapes, or ripping a sprout from its home before it was fully ripe.

"No," she responded. "I already looked it up. This is as tall as they grow."

Peter made a small _'hmm'_ noise, but sensed there was more to Gamora's odd demeanor than being really fascinated by the plants. "What's wrong?" he asked and sat his butt in the dirt.

Gamora sighed and removed her finger from the soft petal. "They...they are similar to a flower native to my homeworld," she finally said.

"Ohh," he said, not sure if he should sound sad or excited. " _Are_ they...?"

"No," his girlfriend replied. "They couldn't be." She sounded certain, not rejecting the idea due to pessimism, but an accurate knowledge and recollection. "These have a different name and growth pattern. They are not identical, just...similar," she repeated in a wistful tone. Peter crossed his legs pretzel-style and relaxed in place, willing himself not to say something stupid about a delicate topic - remembrances and icons of a decimated home.

"Umm, does it make you sad or happy to see something...close?" he asked carefully. "If you like it that much..."

"Both," Gamora answered honestly, and smiled up at Peter. "I'm sorry, I became lost in thought. They don't only remind me of Zehoberei. It's a specific memory."

"I'm up for storytime!" he declared in a voice he realized too late sounded bizarrely jubilant and enthusiastic, judging by Gamora's perplexed face. "Sorry. I mean, if you _want_ to share," he said more calm, placing a hand on her back. Perhaps it wasn't the best time. Aboard the ship was more private and practical. But Gamora hardly ever shared memories, and now was when it sprouted. "I'm pretty sure Rocket is the only vermin, and Mantis is the only insect in these parts, and they're not gonna be trouble." Rocket shouted _'I heard that!'_ from the distance. Pfft, the raccoon wasn't paying attention; he just perked up at the sound of his name. "Any other annoying creatures we would've killed yesterday." Gamora smirked as Peter explained in his roundabout way that he was curious and available to listen, no need for the group to rush the flower selection.

Gamora looked pensive, but eventually sat in a more comfortable position in the pasture, dragging her long nail absently in the soil. "It was shortly before...it happened," she began. Peter held her hand tight in support. It was all she needed to say about _that_ tragic event. "The harvest season was beginning. The land was impoverished. Famines were common, food was scarce. It wasn't a good time for my people," his girlfriend summarized a pre-Thanos life she rarely tapped into during youth discussions. A childhood Peter couldn't _imagine_.

Okay, after the abduction he grew up sometimes fearing being eaten _himself_ by alien monsters, but never dying of starvation.

"My household...my parents were fortunate our property had a decent amount of healthy, fertile ground to plant food, and I assisted best I could for my age. It was a necessity, as many farm hands as possible. If I had siblings--" Gamora paused, and Peter couldn't decipher if she was simply preventing herself from getting off subject, or if Nebula had again entered her conscience. "I _wanted_ to help. I was eager. My family unit was close, and we all wanted to eat, of course. But I...I didn't want to follow the rules and _only_ grow food," she whispered in a small, almost ashamed voice. Peter would've found it ridiculous to feel deep shame over mistakes made as a tiny child, but this was _Gamora_.

Peter's own regrets from his last time in an Earth hospital also made his understanding stronger. Although he still didn't know where the story was headed.

"I loved flowers," Gamora _would have_ confessed, if Peter found it the least bit surprising enough to be a confession.

"Wow, I was so lost about what we were doing here," he teased. But Gamora's smile was small and she kept her eyes on the ground. "Uhh...go on," Peter apologized. Sarcasm bad during heavy, important stories.

"There was a blue and purple flower...you see the way the side hooks around like a claw?" Peter nodded. "It had that. And round on top. Bigger obviously. The center would shine after it rained." It was a vague description for a mental picture, but Peter figured it wasn't important. The look alike visual aids near their feet were enough. "They weren't significant to our community, to my people. I just...liked them. A hobby, finding them, back when they were more plentiful and I was even smaller." Peter couldn't help smiling. The image of Gamora as a little girl was simply...precious. "I liked the idea of having my own."

"So...you wanted to grow a few...?" he ventured a guess softly.

Gamora nodded. "I found some seeds all on my own, and begged my mother and father to allow me to plant them. My mother was sympathetic to the request, but was stressed and said the decision was up to my father. He said 'no' immediately." She peeked up in presumed embarrassment to see Peter still listening intently. "I didn't think it was fair. I never defied my father's word, but I begged him for several more hours. I argued that the seeds were rare, that the flowers would be beautiful after a rainfall. I promised to water them and shelter them from the other elements. He said that a rainstorm was highly unlikely this season, and we couldn't waste valuable time and field space on non-edible crops. He was _correct_ , of course. It was silly and frivolous, but I was a child..."

The confident and beautiful warrior beside him looked so fragile that Peter moving his hand from her back up to her hair was entirely out of his control. She was the last person who should feel shame about their childhood demands. His memories of pleading for Santa Claus _or_ his grandpa to give him an _Atari 500_ for Christmas, compared to Gamora's innocent, heart-wrenching request? It made her the least spoiled child in the galaxy, in his eyes.

"He did eventually say yes," Gamora continued, and Peter looked up in hopeful surprise, not realizing how invested he had become in her tale. "I don't know what caused him to change his mind, maybe a talk with Mother, but he compromised and gave me a _very_ small corner of the field to plant _one_...flower," she said, seemingly racking her brain in frustration to think of the _name_ of the flower that was so important to her as a kid. No telling how many Zehoberei-related memories she'd blocked out in the past decades. "Just _one_ he insisted, like it was a test. He emphasized that the flower was _my_ responsibility. And I still needed to complete my chores and the food harvesting. I was elated. I guarded the spot dutifully, and every morning watered it first before the vegetables and fruits."

"Aaand...?" Peter asked, nudging her side.

Gamora didn't answer right away. She turned around to see Mantis in the field, giving serious consideration to every plant in her path, asking little Groot's opinion while he chewed on leaves.

"They're fine," Peter said and placed a hand on Gamora's cheek to make her face him again. "What happened? Did it grow tall?" he pressed cheerfully, thinking perhaps this story was so ingrained in her memory because it was happy. The last happy memory before all Hell broke loose.

The sigh and shake of her head told him otherwise. "Months later...I came home from scavenging to see Father in the distance...digging it out and tossing it into a compost pile. I ran quickly to see _why_. It was _mine_ ," she said in a petulant voice. "I soon learned why. It was dead," Gamora shrugged, visibly trying to hide the pain she must've felt as a child in that moment bubbling to the surface of her adult brain.

Peter sighed at the unfortunate twist. "The drought?" he questioned gently and played with her bottom curls.

"No," she croaked, straightforward. "Me."

He was confused now. "I thought you said you watered it every damn day..."

"In the _beginning_ ," she clarified and looked up at Peter, finally stopped staring at the impostor flowers by her knees. "In the beginning I fussed over it constantly. However, as time went by...I became bored. I was tired after regular chores and lessons, and wanted to play. I would spend my days throughout the season playing and becoming dirty while the flower dried up in its pathetic corner due to no water or tilling. The sun and bad soil slowly killed it, because rolling around in fully grown flowers was more appealing. I didn't notice how sick and withered...until my father ripped it out...looking so annoyed and disappointed..."

Her throat wobbled, as whenever she talked of her biological father. The tone of this story probably didn't help the inner swell of emotions. "Hey," Peter tried to comfort. "That didn't make you a bad kid, it made you...a _kid_. Groot _never_ obeys or finishes his chores without our pestering him a million times. 'Member last week when Rocket found his shed bark--"

"I began crying in confusion and anger, but my father said in a stern voice that it was my fault," Gamora interrupted, looking at the ground again. Peter creased his forehead and withheld judgment. His mother had always been so soft, and he knew from experience with Yondu how shitty it felt to be scolded after a mistake. Then again, Peter also hadn't grown up with a reasonable, law-abiding father to instill discipline, to balance out and work alongside his mother's sweeter parenting style, so what would he know on the subject? Beat fucking Thanos' methods, of course.

"'You didn't tend to it, Gamora'," she echoed her father's words. Peter ignored the chills it sent through his skin, like the man's ghost was present. "'You claimed to want it without the responsibility you promised. It needed nurturing and attention that you ignored in favor of yourself. You cannot do that when you love something, when something depends on you'," she recited the last sentence in a whisper. Her mind was clearly gone from just the flower.

Peter's gaze was sympathetic, and Gamora smiled at the way he was massaging her arm. "My father was firm but kind," she reassured. "A great provider and role model. I sobbed harder at his words, and he hugged and kissed me, and didn't say a thing about my robe being filthy from playing. He saw my remorse and believed I learned the lesson. We picked the ripe vegetables early that afternoon. I assisted Mama with dinner willingly. I remember the three of us eating stew and cuddling..." she trailed off, eyes shimmering wet.

Wow, first time a routine flower selection before takeoff led to this much painful history, but Peter wasn't going to silence her. "I'm sorry," he whispered and hugged her shoulders. Sorry for more than a withered flower. Sorry for the greater loss his fellow orphaned ass understood.

She silently communicated her gratitude for his comfort and pushed back the tears. "Father did tell me I could possibly plant another next year..." she added. There was no need to explain the outcome of that future ambition. Peter knew "next year" would never arrive. "You know, at that age, I thought neglecting and losing that flower was the worst thing that could happen to me," she said with a humorless laugh.

Peter let out a long exhale at fate's evil, mysterious plans. "Yeah..." Walkman batteries dying on the school bus once felt so unfair and cruel, before he learned the definitions of "tumor" and "chemo" and "Ravagers."

"My mother and father believed in me, but...well, I think of that story and how...I never did grasp the lesson."

"What do you mean?" Peter pulled away to ask. "About being responsible? Nurturing?"

"I was all she had," Gamora answered vaguely, leaving Peter lost.

_Who...?_

"Nebula just wanted a sister," she whispered, eyes on the tiny blue flowers.

 _Oh._ The parallel clicked.

The post-fireworks conversations, when their feelings, apologies, and Yondu were the primary focus, until Peter had needed a break and changed the subject. He'd asked what happened with Nebula. What took place between their argument on Ego and the next time he saw everyone, when the scary blue woman joined them in the fight. He asked why they were no longer at each other's throats, and where she had disappeared after the funeral. And Gamora explained everything: Nebula showing mercy, confessing her side of their childhood, and Gamora's new regrets. Talk of missed opportunity and years wasted, and how wrong she was their entire upbringing. How her adoptive sister deserved better.

He was amazed that a solitary, drooping plant imprinted in her memory could trigger the disgrace she felt over her robotic sibling's struggle and pain. It felt like such a leap. A mighty depressing, admirable, somewhat understandable leap, but...

"That...is not even _close_ to the same thing," Peter said like he was mocking one of Rocket's destructive plans or Drax's kooky ideas. "It's not a fair comparison to what your dad meant..."

"Nebula is a _person_ , not a flower. It is worse," Gamora insisted, avoiding his eyes and ignoring Rocket telling Groot to stop bugging him. Thankfully Groot toddled back over to Mantis and didn't interrupt the pair sitting.

"You were trying to _survive_. You didn't know--"

"I should have known she had _feelings_. That she hated her life, too. She depended on me. It's _exactly_ what Father meant, Peter," she corrected in a choked voice. "Thanos mutilated her because of me. I ignored her in favor of _myself_ ," she spit, the saliva landing by the stems.

"Gamora..." he tried to calm her, and she relaxed slightly. Calming Gamora was a skill that required patience, and patience wasn't one Star-Lord's virtues. But he would practice for her. "I really don't think you should view that as failing, or take it to heart," he said. "It was an awful situation."

"It's not an excuse. I was still wrong."

"You were both being _tortured_ , for crying out--"

"It's not an _excuse!_ " she shouted and threw her head up to glare at her boyfriend. Some other Guardian eyes may have looked their way.

"Okay!" Peter gave in, before Rocket could quip about 'trouble in paradise'. "Okay..." Convincing Gamora to abandon all blame wasn't an ideal comforting strategy. She would hold to this guilt; her mind was made up. "So...you made another, bigger mistake." Tears returned to her eyes and slid down her cheeks. "You admitted that Thanos _created_ the screwed up relationship, right? You were both victims." She shrugged against his body, allowing that much. "I...I didn't know Yondu...that life didn't need to be _war_ , until it was too late," he made the personal comparison he knew wasn't as disturbing, but it seemed to provide better comfort than saying she was 100% not at fault. Her green fingers sliding into his hand told him so, anyway. "Things can change. Nebula's alive. You two still have time," he said with a swallow. Gamora sighed, looking guilty for the conversation shift. "Didn't you tell me she understood your side a little, and might forgive?" he asked with a touch of optimism.

"Yes," she said and nodded, shoulders less tense.

"When did you last talk to her...?"

Gamora thought for a moment. "Three weeks ago."

"How'd it...go?" he threw out, nervous.

She straightened and looked less distraught. "Quick. There was no talk of murder competition," she said in a serious, genuine tone that made Peter almost crack trying not to giggle.

"Atta girls!" he cheered instead. The jovial, amusing reply did seem to lift her spirits.

"Thank you, Peter," she said, picking up the tiny, not quite identical flower. "It is odd reflecting..."

Drax exited the ship, and asked why Mantis was wrestling a twenty-foot vine out of Groot's mighty grasp. Gamora looked over and laughed at the struggle.

"You're a good person," Peter stated the reason he fell for her, after _'Phew damn, she's fine'_ on Xandar. "You _are_ nurturing. You nurture the team, have nurtured Groot daily since he was a sprout. Nurture the Captain when afflicted with an _agonizing_ rash that prickface raccoons should've warned about," he grumbled the last example, and Gamora rolled her eyes, but brightened. "You _can_ be an awesome sister." Hey, he and Kraglin didn't realize the stupidity and pointlessness of their jealousy until decades later, but now they were pretty chill.

It wouldn't be easy, but Peter had faith in every difficult step in Gamora's redemption journey. She always told _him_ not to dwell in the past, and he owed her all his support, given how much of his grief she soothed.

Gamora resumed inspecting the buds. She was hearing his words, but the subject was taking its toll, possibly reaching the limit of what she could handle for the time and place. "These are so tiny, they will fall to the bottom of the vase."

"So we'll prop 'em up!" Peter said happily. "Sprinkle 'em on top. Use Groot's old pot. Anything. They feel like today's winner! Unless..."

"All right," she agreed, and together they picked the four small flowers to take home. They wouldn't shine from Zehoberei's rain, but they would be preserved and treasured by ragtag voyagers however possible. "Did I mention..." Gamora whispered in a fun tone, "that Nebula once called us a ' _Garden_ of the Galaxy'?"

"Hahaha, what?" Peter burst out laughing at the ridiculous parody title. Gamora looked thrilled by her boyfriend's amusement. "Your sister's pretty clever," he remarked, and she was smiling even harder at the compliment, realizing with fresh eyes that her sister _could_ fit in with the rest of her new family. Someday. "In a sarcastic, hard rocker chick kinda way," he teased.

Gamora shook her head and rose from the dirt, holding Peter's hand. "Mantis seemed eager to choose today. I hope--"

"Wait, Groot, don't! Peter said--"

The couple whipped around at the sound of the bug lady's shout, to find her standing covered in yellow powder, skin already turning red. She was desperately hopping and brushing to remove what was sinking in, a look of anguish on her face and nervous whimpers escaping her throat.

Groot sat giggling triumphantly, dropping the thorny plant he used to purposely blow the nasty culprits in Mantis' direction. Rocket and Drax's looks of horror mirrored Peter and Gamora's.

"How bad are those compared to the stuff I jumped in?" Peter side-whispered to his girlfriend.

"Shower! Showers now!" Gamora immediately jumped to action, passing the flowers to Peter and rushing to lead Mantis inside _The Benatar_ , green hands sturdy on the empath's back, careful to avoid the poisonous specks. "It will be fine. Get cleaned and in new clothes right away."

"Shit, here we go again," Rocket complained and slid down from the hood, marching over to Groot. "That is ONLY funny when it happens to humies, Groot! NOT okay!" he barked at the child and grabbed him from the floral terrain. "Let's go, you bratty sap!"

Groot stopped laughing and looked confused over the fuss. "I am Groot?"

"YOU'RE gonna be in charge of keepin' bugface from scratchin' to death!"

Peter quickly jogged up to the two women and whispered to Gamora, "You, uh, you weren't ignoring her," hoping this random incident wouldn't affect her guilt and insecurity regarding nurturing skills.

"Will I be quarantined, itchy, and crying like Peter?" Mantis asked in a shaking, timid voice.

"Hey, _shut up_ ," the leader replied in offense. There flew any compassion he would have for Mantis' unpleasant condition for the next week.

"Probably only the first two. He has less tolerance and self-control," Gamora reassured, and Rocket laughed. Peter scoffed and gaped at his girlfriend. "We have plenty of ointment from last time."

"Barely," Drax said simply. Rocket began throwing glares at the others for making him laugh in front of Groot despite planning to discipline the tree. "Quill used a large amount. There is very minimal in the bottle."

"We will purchase more! Go straight to the bathroom and don't touch anything!" Gamora ordered.

"The flowers..." Mantis apologized sadly.

"I promise you can pick next time. Err, when you're better. Drax, help?"

"I am Groot!"

"Save it for the jury, Twig," Rocket scolded and hurried inside. "The gardener's club meeting is over! Enough of this d'asted planet!"

Star-Lord watched the five scurry aboard, and strode to the galley to place the small blue flowers in water. Gamora's story and their symbolism echoed in his mind on his way to the flight deck, and he winked as he passed her shoving Mantis into the bathroom. He was pretty sure it went unnoticed in her concentrated state.

This ultra sappy, perhaps meaningless tradition didn't typically lead to revelations and tragic tales, or somebody requiring ice and quarantine. But nine out of ten of the crew's battle aftermaths and drinking games did, so maybe those outcomes were just delayed this trip.

What Peter _did_ know unmistakably was that he loved Gamora more with each new story, that she was a nurturer on par with his mother, and the sibling relationship she feared was irreparable would be fine.

He sat in the pilot's seat and rolled his eyes at the commotion of the baby tree, rodent, green woman, and soon to be very itchy insect lady. He flicked the Zune to a song by _The Cowsills_ about the rain, the park, and other things. He glanced down at the cup in his palm. The flowers didn't seem nearly as small inside the heroes' spacecraft.

"Pfft. ' _Garden_ of the Galaxy'," he scoffed and snickered to himself, waiting for Mantis to announce she was finished in the shower before initiating the bumpy takeoff, observing the wild field the team spent lounging for the past hour. "Where the hell did that bald weirdo who thinks my face would look more handsome with my genitals sewn to it get the idea that we're a goddamn _garden_?"

**Author's Note:**

> Sheesh, two sad Gamora backstory fics in a row? That's exactly what we all need these days. ;)
> 
> Title is from _Wildflower_ by Skylark.
> 
> My _Guardians of the Galaxy_ tumblr is [here](https://marypoppinswasmyfatherbitches.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
